


RE: Lipbalm

by MorialComporial



Series: Up Schitt's Creek Without a Paddle [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Attempted Frontage, Established Relationship, M/M, No Spoilers, PWP, Stevie Accidentally Cockblocking, What happens in the back room stays in the back room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorialComporial/pseuds/MorialComporial
Summary: David has a serious issue with Patrick’s arms.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Up Schitt's Creek Without a Paddle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636834
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	RE: Lipbalm

“Stop doing that.” 

“Doing what?” 

David drops the newest folded sweater from his hands onto the table, smoothing it down onto the lumpy pile of matching garments. It’s well past sundown on a Tuesday, hours after the sun has set and verging on the posted closing times outside, though there’s a good chance they’ll end up pulling out chairs to share a drink in peace. 

Patrick shoots him a quizzical glance, rearranging to fold over the check out till gently. God damn. David has a serious issue with those arms. They share this subtle challenging stare down before he breaks the quiet again.

“That thing,” His ringed hand flutters uselessly, breaking eye contact. “You’re not even being cute about it. I know exactly what this is with the whole arm flexing situation.” 

Eyebrow cocking, Patrick looks down and emerges with a passing surprise on his features. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my arms were offending you. It’s on my list to get rid of them now, y’know, if that would make you feel more comfortable.” 

Rounding the displays of solid perfume and beta hydroxy complex recovery creams, he shoots his partner a dirty look and sides it well with a dramatic groan. Fingers sliding over Patricks shoulders, his eyes follow a specific, hungry trail to ridiculously toned biceps. He’s weak for them and David is pretty sure the other has caught onto this fact. 

That, or some of his shirts have begun to shrink in the wash.

Patrick turns his head to look across the counter from them, humming shortly.  
“For all the complaining you do about the lip balm, you’re terrible at restocking them.” 

The bait is so well laid that David pulls in a breath and opens his mouth to defend himself before he realizes he’s being wound up unapologetically. Looking over at the balms as his jaw clicks back shut, he nods quickly. 

“You’re- no, you’re right- we need to get more. Of the lip balm. I’ll help you with that.” The warm smiles they’re trading ruins this illusion of any real business being conducted, but Patrick sits up to open the curtain, eyebrows furrowing. 

“We wouldn’t want to lose brand loyalty, right?” 

“Definitely not.” 

Grey material falls back into place, cooling the room in a muted darkness, though neither of them work to close it any further. Patrick pushes him up against the wall and revels in the warmth of David’s shivering breath against his skin. 

It’s rewarding to be the only person who can manage to knock David Rose down a peg who isn’t Stevie. The feat is gratified in David stumbling over his words, shrinking out of his natural height to attempt a more closed off look. 

If he didn’t know better, David slouching would be this gesture, but soft palms holding cold metal rings make contact with his face. He cradles Patrick with a care unmatched, and the only thing that interrupts his grin is a pair of lips over David’s own.

David isn’t disillusioned enough to not recognize Patrick is playing him when his hands threaten to drop underneath the fuzzy fabric of his shirt. He pulls back with an annoyed huff, drawing out a quiet laugh from Patrick. “Don’t look so beaten up about it.” 

“I don’t really appreciate you saying that on my day off,” David’s gritted out whispering only makes Patrick laugh fuller. His fingers drift down from attempting to trace David’s ribs through thick fabric, slipping underneath the offending garment. His complaint nearly derailed entirely by that, and he tips Patricks face to deliver another smattering of kisses. “It’s bullshit and you know it.”

Warm hands find purchase against his hips, and Patrick voices his agreement as he moves into the fresh territory of skin exposed below his chin. It’s retribution for David’s stunt last week, at least, Patrick allows himself to believe that flimsy excuse. 

His thumbs drag below the waistband of David’s criminally expensive jeans, wedging between those and his new favorite pair of briefs he stole from Patrick.

David shivers with anticipation and ruts up against him, his head falling back in a silent invitation. No longer able to reach his face, his hips responded in kind to make up for the second shift. Patrick’s teeth scrape over rose scented skin, eliciting a quiet moan from David’s throat. 

Putting those comments from earlier to good use, Patrick breaks away long enough to get his hands under either of David’s thighs, pulling him up evenly and making good use of the wall as extra support. The sound that escapes his partner isn’t easily defined, but with the way he’s grabbing at the deep blue button up gives Patrick a clue that it might just be a positive reaction. 

Those fingers find their way to his flexed arms, poised to carry David’s weight cautiously. He can appreciate the hard work put into holding the position.

“Shit-”

Patrick rips away from David nearly as fast as his boyfriend moves to shove him away. Stumbling to the floor and nearly spilling onto Patrick in the process, David curses under his breath.

The sliver of light that appeared when Stevie pulled back the curtain promptly plunges them back into darkness when she retreats. He barely registers the backpedal of her footsteps over his hammering pulse, head falling onto Patrick’s shoulder to catch his breath. 

Whipping the curtain open and letting out more frustrated, colorful language, David sputters when the thick fabric falls back partially into his face. It’s a mild inconvenience at the very best, but his fuss could’ve tricked anyone. 

Stevie turns around, squeezing a few of her fingers in her other hand nervously. “I’m sorry, David, I didn’t mean to see any of that.”

“Oh, my god!” David shakes his head, dropping his arms. “Since you always lecture me about knocking, this seems kind of hypocritical, Stevie.” 

“It was just quiet and I heard a sound! I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” 

“Well we were fine before you decided to get involved.” 

Patrick finds it in himself to appear from the backroom, too. He’s adjusting his belt where it’d been twisted out of place during their contact. 

Fumbling over her explanation and pointing out the door, Stevie grabs the bag she’d set down near the brand new plunger display, casting one more glance over her shoulder before making post haste on her leave.

Groaning, David wraps his arms around Patrick’s waist, propping his chin on a sturdy shoulder. Patrick lets his head fall and suppressing a sly smile. “Let's keep working on getting that apartment.”


End file.
